Poison Running Through My Veins
by starg8fans
Summary: Alternate ending to 'Night of Desirable Objects'.   The bite of the mutant creature aka 'molebaby' wasn't harmless after all, and it starts to affect Peter.  Rated M for explicit content in ch 4.
1. Trapped

I started writing this months ago and was really struggling to finish it. It started out as a one shot but then took on a life of its own. Without the encouragement and support of my wonderful beta **mvariorum** - who incidentally gave me the plot bunny for this - I don't think I would have made it. So thank you, hon, you are amazing!

This fic starts with a scene towards the end of _Night of Desirable Objects_ and goes AU from there. If you want to refresh your memory, the fight between Peter and the monster can be found on youtube. I'm not supposed to put the url in here, but if you search YT for 'attack molebaby' it should come up as one of the first recs.

This is a six chapter fic, and it's complete so updates will be daily. Actually, it will also be my countdown to S4. Of course, the time until _Fringe_ finally returns would pass even quicker if you could drop me a review now and then. Every writer craves those, and I'm an absolute junkie for them.

_Chapter 1 - Trapped_

A tremendous crash shook the underground tunnel. Dust billowed, shining golden in a shaft of sunlight that suddenly cut through the gloom. When the dust started to settle, Peter and Olivia saw that the sheriff's car had broken through the ground, neatly severing the molebaby in two with its fender. They both stared at the creature for several seconds, and only when they were sure it was really dead did Peter allow himself to flop backwards and take a deep breath of relief.

"Peter?" Olivia asked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," Peter replied. "Just catching my breath." He cast here a grateful look. "That was quick thinking with that bone."

"You're welcome." Olivia scanned their surroundings. "We better get out of here before more of this tunnel collapses.

"I'm with you on that one." Peter pushed himself to a sitting position. He winced when a sharp pain flared up in his right arm.

"Peter?" Olivia's super sensitive hearing had not missed the slight hiss that had escaped him.

"That little bastard chewed up my arm," Peter admitted, casting a rueful glance at the sleeve of his jacket that showed several puncture marks where the creature's teeth had ripped through the black denim, the edges saturated with blood.

"How bad is it?" Olivia wanted to know, leaning closer to catch a look at the wound.

"I'll live. Let's get out of here," Peter stalled her.

He helped Olivia crawl back through the tunnel into the basement room. While she brushed the dirt from her suit and retrieved her cane, Peter inspected the door.

"The lock is state-of-the-art. Papa Hughes didn't take any chances with this monster he created. Look, it has an automated locking mechanism." Peter closed the door, and the bolt on the other side snapped shut with an audible 'click'. "Eliminates any danger of leaving it unlocked by mistake."

Olivia pulled a face. "I sure hope you thought this through and have a way to open it again. I'm not planning on spending any more time in this house than I have to."

Peter gave her one of his cheeky smiles. "Your confidence in me is greatly appreciated, Agent Dunham. True, the locking mechanism is state-of-the-art. But the bolt is small fry. You can open it with a piece of plastic. Which I guess was good enough for the molebaby. I don't see him sending out credit card applications, do you?" He pulled out his wallet and extracted a card.

"I guess not," Olivia agreed. She stepped closer to watch him deftly feeding the plastic into the crack of the door.

"I'll have us out of here in two shakes. I can't wait to…"

That's how far Peter got, when a massive explosion shook the house, and they could hear the upper floors come crashing down on top of their basement room.

The tremors knocked Peter and Olivia to the ground. When the shaking abated, they both sat up, still dazed from the blast.

"What the hell was that?" Peter asked, staggering to his feet and holding out his left hand to help Olivia up.

Olivia shrugged before grasping his offered hand. "It sounded like the whole house came down on top of us." She pulled herself upright and shook her head, her over-sensitive ears still ringing from the blast. "Something must have triggered an explosion."

"No shit, Sherlock." Peter cast a reproachful look at the door. "I guess Hughes, the old fox, booby trapped the lock so it would blow up the house if his creature tried to get out."

"Destroying his research at the same time," Olivia added.

Peter bit his lip. "I should have thought of that possibility. I'm sorry, Olivia."

"Forget it. No harm done. Actually, I hope he did a good enough job that nobody will be able to lay his hands on that research. The world has enough problems without adding a tried and tested recipe for genetic transmutation to the mix, don't you think?"

"If by 'nobody' you mean Walter I couldn't agree more." Peter held up the card. "Now that the explosion has already happened it should be safe to breach the lock."

"It's worth a try," Olivia said. "But be careful when you open it, there's no telling what could be on the other side."

This time Peter used his maglite to check for wires in the crack of the door before inserting the plastic square. But the moment the lock disengaged, he could feel the door pushing inward.

"Dammit," Peter swore, "I think there's debris piled up against the other side." He gritted his teeth and tried to push the door back in place. "A little help here?"

Olivia moved up beside him and set her shoulder against the door as well. Together they managed to close it once more. Olivia ran the back of her hand over her forehead. "I guess we're not leaving through this door any time soon."

"Guess not," Peter agreed, but when he looked at Olivia his eyes widened at the sight of the blood smeared along her hairline. "Olivia, you're bleeding."

"What?" Olivia froze when she saw the blood covering her hand. "But where…" She inspected her hand and wrist but could not find any cuts or scrapes that would account for the blood. Then her eyes grazed Peter's right arm and everything became clear. "It's not my blood, it's yours, Peter."

"Really?" Peter inspected the blood soaked sleeve. "That's strange. I would have thought the blood would have clotted by now."

"Well, there's no telling what kind of attributes this Chimera might have had." Olivia pointed to a stool. "Sit. I'm going to have a look."

Surprisingly, Peter did for once as he was told without protest. "Vampire bats," he mused. "Their saliva contains a natural anti-coagulant to stop their victims' wounds from closing up while they feed."

"What a cheery thought," Olivia deadpanned as she helped Peter shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his formerly white Henley, now marbled with interesting shades of grey and brown. "I'll just warp this up and then…" She broke off at the sight that met her eyes. They both stared in horror at the faint bluish green lines that had started to radiate from the wound, tendrils already beginning to snake up towards Peter's elbow.


	2. First Aid

_Chapter 2 - First Aid_

"Well," Peter drawled, looking at the pattern on his lower arm, "that's not something you see every day. I'm sure Walter will find this endlessly fascinating. Who knows, he might even name the condition after me."

"That's not funny, Peter. We have to get you out of here and to a hospital." Olivia cast a despondent look at the barraged door, then resolutely turned to Peter. "The tunnel. The police cruiser already breached it. We should be able to dig our way out around it."

Peter looked doubtful. "It would really surprise me if the tunnel survived the shockwave from the explosion."

"Aren't you a glass half empty," Olivia shot back, adding, "No, you stay put," when she saw Peter getting ready to rise from his stool. "Every step you take will make the poison move more quickly through your bloodstream. I'll go check, and you just sit there and don't move a muscle." Not giving him a chance to challenge her order, Olivia turned and limped to the adjacent room. It only needed one look at the pile of dirt that had cascaded from the hole she had made in the wall earlier to tell her that this escape route was closed off to them as well.

Returning to Peter, she started digging through her pockets for her phone. When she finally held it in her trembling hand, she groaned in dismay. A crack ran diagonally across the touchscreen, and when she tried to unlock it, it wouldn't react to the command.

"Dammit, whoever thought it was a good idea to get rid of keypads?" Olivia exclaimed helplessly.

"Exactly the reason why I have this model," Peter said, holding up his own mobile that sported alphanumeric keys.

"Please tell me you have a signal," Olivia replied, snatching the phone away from Peter, and sighing with relief when she saw the bars indicating that it had reception. She quickly punched in Broyles' number and waited impatiently until her boss' deep voice answered the call.

"Sir, this is an emergency. Peter and I are trapped in the basement of Andre Hughes house. We discovered the creature that was responsible for the missing persons, but during a fight…"

"_Creature? So Dr. Bishop was right? Are we looking at a transmutation here?"_

"Yes, Sir, but that thing has been dealt with. Still, it bit Peter in the arm before he was able to subdue it, and it appears that its bite is poisonous."

"_I understand. I'll coordinate with the local authorities to rally a rescue team immediately. You said you were trapped - trapped how?"_

Olivia took a deep breath. "There was an explosion and the whole house came down. The only exit door is blocked by debris, and I suspect the same is true for the stairwell. You better inform the rescue team that they'll need heavy equipment to clear it."

"Come to think of it, I noticed a construction site in a side street as we drove here. It should save time to borrow their earth moving equipment," Peter interjected.

Olivia was impressed again by how little escaped him. She relayed the information to Broyles, who replied, _ "I'm positive somebody has already reported the explosion so emergency services should have been alerted. I'll get an update from the local PD and will get back to you."_ After a brief pause he added, _"You and Peter just hang in there. We'll get you both out as quickly as possible."_

"Thank you, Sir, we will. Dunham out."

"Lemme guess," Peter said, shifting on his seat so he could rest his back against the shelves behind him, "he left you with some encouraging words to keep our spirits up."

"In fact, he did," Olivia admitted, scanning the shelves in search of something she could use to treat Peter's arm. "And you could be more appreciative of his concern for your well-being."

"Well, I don't see how any amount of spirit is going to make a difference at the moment."

"That's where you are wrong," Olivia replied with a smug smile. She reached behind Peter to grab a bottle from the shelf. "_These_ spirits are just what we need for some basic first aid, due to their antiseptic and astringent qualities."

Peter gave her an appreciative nod when he realized she was holding up a fifth of Vodka, almost empty except for maybe a quarter inch of liquid at its bottom. "Not to mention their anesthetic properties if taken internally," he suggested. But Olivia shook her head. "Sorry, there's barely enough here to rinse those puncture marks. You'll just have to bite you tongue and take it like a man, Peter."

Foraging for more supplies, Olivia also managed to find a tube of antibiotic ointment barely past its expiration date and a sealed bag of brand new linen kitchen towels that she proceeded to tear into strips for bandages. Her final acquisition were a reasonably clean quilted blanket and a collapsible sun bed that would make a more comfortable place for Peter to wait out their rescue. To her dismay she could not find a sink or faucet anywhere. She would have to make another sweep later and see if she could find some bottled water.

Lugging her loot behind her she returned to Peter. He had rested his head against the shelf behind him and closed his eyes. She also noticed that he looked a bit flushed, and that his breathing was accelerated as if he had just done physical exercise.

"I thought I made it clear that you were supposed to stay put," she said accusingly. Blue eyes that shone unnaturally bright opened and looked at her in confusion. "But I didn't…" Peter began, but was cut off by Olivia's hand coming to rest against his forehead.

"Jesus, Peter, you're burning up!" Olivia exclaimed.

A slow smile spread over Peter's face and his eyes fell closed again. "Mmmh… I was beginning to wonder why I feel so… fuzzy."

"Fuzzy? Is that the medical term?" Olivia quipped, trying to keep him talking to find out how coherent he still was.

"Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, a bear was Fuzzy Wuzzy," Peter started to recite, ratcheting Olivia's worry up another notch. As quickly as the rusty joints would allow she set up the sun bed, covering it with the quilt while Peter kept muttering about Fuzzy Wuzzy's fuzziness or lack thereof.

"Come on, Peter, let's get you more comfortable, and then I'm gonna patch you up," she said, bending down and pulling his uninjured arm across her shoulder.

"Good idea, this seat is not very copfmor… coftom… comftor… ibble," Peter agreed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and manhandled onto the bed. When it was done Olivia fell onto the stool with an exhausted sigh. Her bruised hip throbbed mercilessly, and she was glad to take the weight off her feet for a moment. Grabbing Peter's right arm she rested it across her lap. The bluish-green marks appeared to have spread further, and had darkened considerably, standing out like vivid bruises against Peter's pale skin. Keeping a tight reign on the panic that wanted to rise in her, Olivia reached for the Vodka bottle and carefully poured the liquid over the wounds.

"Ouch! Whaddaya doing? That hurts!" Peter burst out, trying in vain to pull his arm from Olivia's iron grip.

"Shush, it's okay, I know that stung, but it'll make you better," Olivia tried to soothe him, instinctively falling into the mode you would use with a sick child.

"But it hurts," Peter replied petulantly.

"I know, but it will pass soon. We'll just wrap your arm, and then you can get some sleep, okay?"

"'kay," Peter said obediently, and Olivia half expected him to stick his thumb in his mouth and suck on it. She wondered if this behavior was the result of the fever or the poison - suspecting that it was probably a combination of both.

When she was finished dressing the wound with the ointment and bandages she felt Peter's fingers close around her own. "Olivia?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Can we go home now? I don't like it here."

She had to swallow around a lump in her throat. "Soon, Peter. It's better if you get some sleep first. We're still waiting for the people who will help us get home."

Taking his injured arm, she rested it gently by his side and covered him with the other half of the blanket. Peter shifted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position, but soon his eyes fell closed and his breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep.


	3. Attack

**A/N:** Thanks for all the favorites and story alerts, and of course a special thanks with a cherry on top for everybody who reviewed. I just discovered the 'story stats' page, and I was blown away that this fic has had over 230 visitors from almost 30 countries. So I thought I'd let you know that you can also review in French, German or Italian, if that makes it easier for you. *hint hint*

The chapters keep getting longer, I hope that's a good thing. 3 more chapters to go, and three more days until S4!

_Chapter 3 - Attack_

In spite of her uncomfortable perch on the stool, Olivia had dozed off as well. She was woken by a repeated buzzing noise, and something rubbing insistently against her hipbone. It took her a moment to realize that it was Peter's phone. She quickly hit the 'call' button, not wanting the noise to wake Peter as well. One look at him told her that his sleep had not been disturbed yet by the sound, so she quickly whispered, "Hang on a second," to the caller. Rising from her seat, Olivia tiptoed around the sleeping man, unable to resist brushing her fingertips over his forehead. She was shocked at the dry heat that radiated from it.

When she was in the next room, Olivia spoke in a more normal voice. "I'm here now, sir."

"_Good. How is Peter?" _Broyles asked.

"Asleep. I disinfected and bandaged his arm, but he started spiking a fever not long after we talked. I have nothing to give him for it, and it seems to be getting worse."

"_I just got an update from the rescue team. As Peter suggested, they procured some heavy machinery from the building site, and it should arrive at the Hughes' property promptly. A survey team has already scoped the collapsed building, but the reports are not encouraging. Apparently, the explosion severed several gas pipes and electricity lines, which will slow down the excavation so as not to endanger the work crew."_

Olivia bit her lip. "Did they give you any kind of estimate?"

"_It's too early to say for sure. But we are definitely looking at several hours, possibly half a day until they can reach you. I'm sorry, Dunham, that I don't have anything more positive to report."_

"We can only hope they get here in time, sir. Just tell them to hurry, okay?"

"_The crew is aware of the gravity of your situation. Don't worry, they will work as quickly as it is safe to do so."_

"Thank you, sir. Please keep me posted on their progress."

"_Will do. I'll talk to you soon."_

After the call had ended, Olivia just stood there for a while, lost in thought. She was trying to think of anything she had overlooked, a way to get them out of this predicament that she hadn't thought of yet. But her musings were interrupted by a noise from the other room. Her acute hearing picked up a clinking sound, followed by the grating of metal on glass. Cautiously, one hand on her gun, Olivia approached the open connecting door.

Peter was standing by a shelf, a Coke bottle in his hands. He was just finishing unscrewing the cap. When he lifted it to his lips Olivia let out a shout.

"Peter - NO!"

Peter froze and looked at her. His eyes were red rimmed, and there was something dark hidden in their depths.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm too thirsty to mind my manners so you'll just have to wait your turn."

Olivia shook her head, approaching him warily, like she would a wild animal. "Peter, I realize you must be parched, but look at the color of that liquid. That's not Coke, who knows what it is!"

With a puzzled frown Peter looked at the thick, greenish substance sloshing about in the bottle. Then his face hardened, and with an oath he turned and threw the bottle against the wall where it shattered into bits, dirty brown droplets streaking down the bricks.

By now Olivia had come close enough to put her hand on his arm. At the contact, Peter whirled round, snarling at her. Olivia shrank back. Swallowing her nervousness, she tried to talk some sense into him.

"Let me find you some water, okay? You just lie down again. You know, as we discussed before? That it would be better if…"

"I decide what's best for me. And no offense - but who tells me you won't keep the water to yourself when you find it?"

Even though she knew it was the fever speaking, the accusation stung. "Did I ever give you a reason not to trust me?" she asked.

"Does a hotel lobby in Baghdad ring a bell?" Peter shot back.

Olivia flinched. And realized that it was no use trying to reason with Peter in the state of mind he was in at that moment. It was as if the past months and the rapport they had built had been erased, and the lack of it made Olivia realize how much she had come to depend on Peter as a solid weight by her side. "Okay," she said, shrugging, "let's search together. That way we can keep an eye on each other."

That seemed to have hit the right note, because Peter nodded, and together they started moving along the shelves, checking every container they found. Olivia was beginning to feel thirsty herself, she couldn't even begin to imagine what Peter must be going through with the fever burning through him. He started getting more and more aggravated as their search proved fruitless, banging his fist against the wooden racks and muttering curses under his breath.

Suddenly Olivia saw something through the slats of the top shelf - a plastic bottle lying at the very back against the wall, filled with a clear liquid. Peter had moved ahead a bit in his impatience, so she used her cane to snag the elusive object and pull it to the front until she was able to reach it. She was just about to unplug it to check the contents when Olivia felt a set of strong hands grab her, spin her around and slam her against the rack.

"I knew I couldn't trust you," Peter growled, using a forearm across Olivia's neck to pin her against a shelf while his other hand wrestled the bottle from her.

"I was just about to check if it was water," Olivia managed to choke out.

"Sure you were." Grabbing the stopper with his teeth, Peter pulled it out and spat it on the floor. Immediately, the smell of ammonia filled the air. But Peter seemed too far gone to notice. In spite of Olivia's desperate struggles he raised the bottle to his lips. Olivia had no choice. With a silent apology to Peter, she kneed him in the crotch.

The bottle slipped from Peter's fingers and disintegrated on the floor as he fell to his knees in agony. Olivia took a moment to catch her breath before kneeling down close to Peter.

"I'm so sorry, it was the only way to stop you from poisoning yourself. That wasn't water, Peter, I swear."

Peter raised his bloodshot eyes to her, and Olivia shrank back at the cold, hard expression in them. "I'm really starting to wonder whose side you're on," he managed to grind out, his voice rough as sandpaper - whether from pain or from thirst Olivia couldn't say. Then Peter's expression changed from furious to calculating. "You gonna help me up at least?" he asked, holding out a hand to her.

Olivia was torn. Her instinct was to help him, but this man before her was nothing like the Peter she knew. She got to her feet and took a step back, shaking her head. "Just give it another minute to make sure you're okay before I help you up," she suggested. Peter's eyes bored into hers, but then he nodded. Olivia relaxed ever so slightly, but in the next second Peter had catapulted himself off the floor, trying to grab her.

Olivia turned and ran. Her bruised hip slowed her down, but Peter was still in pain from her well-aimed kick as well, so she managed to get to the other room before him, and to shut the door in his face. But her fingers scrabbled uselessly in her attempt to slide he bolt home, it was rusty from disuse and refused to budge. Even leaning against the door with all her weight, Olivia knew she wouldn't be able to withstand Peter's furious assault on the wood between them for any length of time. After a particularly violent impact, she quickly retreated to the other side of the room until her back connected with the wall, drew her weapon and leveled it at the entrance.

The next time Peter threw himself against the door it gave, and he stumbled into the room, only to find himself face-to-face with the business end of Olivia's gun.

"Stay where you are. I mean it," Olivia ordered.

Peter snarled, but still raised his hands in surrender. "Again? Isn't one near miss per day enough?" He took a step towards her. "You're not going to shoot me, Olivia, we both know that."

"I hope to god you won't make me," Olivia agreed, "but I will do what I have to do. So Stop. Right. There."

Peter flashed her an achingly familiar smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Look, sweetheart, let's forget what just happened. Clean slate, okay?"

Olivia kept a close watch on the distance between them that was slowly shrinking. Peter was almost within reach. She lowered the gun slightly.

"That's right, you put down your gun, and I promise…" The minute widening of Peter's pupils told Olivia that he was about to pounce. So when he did, she was ready. Bringing the gun up and across in an arch, it connected with Peter's temple, sending him sprawling to the ground in a dead faint.


	4. Fever Pitch

**A/N: **So here's the 'adult' portion of the fic. I can't help myself, P/O are just sizzling hot together. And just in case you were worried, in spite of the content of the preceding chapter it's completely consensual.

This is easily twice as long as the first chapters, so I hope it's worth a review or two?

_Chapter 4 - Fever Pitch_

Olivia slid down the wall, her knees unable to support her any longer. The gun dropped from her fingers and clattered to the floor as she brought her hands to her face and covered her eyes, trying to shut out the reality that was threatening to push her beyond her breaking point.

Ever since she had come crashing through the windshield of her car she'd felt like in a limbo. She knew she'd been gone for an hour, and the fact that she couldn't remember where was seriously messing with her mental stability. When she woke up in the hospital, utterly confused and panicked, Peter's face was the first thing she saw, and since that moment he had become her beacon in the night, grounding her and giving her something to hold on to. It brought home the truth that she'd been trying to suppress for several months now, that the feelings she had been developing for him - and that she had no doubt were reciprocated - would not be denied. For months Olivia had tried to ignore them, fight them, still too scarred from her experience with John Scott. So it was really the ultimate irony that now when she was so close to being ready and willing to fall into Peter's comforting embrace circumstances took him away from her.

A soft sigh made Olivia drop her hands from her face and look at the motionless figure on the ground before her. Apart from a bruise that was starting to swell at his temple, Peter looked like he was sleeping, his face no longer distorted with anger but peaceful and at rest. She allowed her gaze to linger, studying the familiar features more intently than she had ever done before. Her heart swelled at the sight of him. God, he was beautiful. And it was more than skin deep. She loved his humor, his intellect, his protectiveness; his constant silent support, and the way he could comfort her with nothing but a brief touch. Olivia gritted her teeth, determination overcoming her earlier feeling of helplessness. This thing between them would not, _could not_ end here before it had even begun. Whatever it took, they would get through this, and they would be together.

Pushing to her feet, Olivia hobbled to the other room to retrieve the quilt and her handcuffs. There was a radiator in the room, and she attached Peter's left wrist to it before she pushed and pulled him onto the quilt. The fever was still rolling off him in waves, and she wondered how long he would be able to hold out without medication and even water. His eyes and cheeks had a sunken look to them, and his lips were dry and cracked. Olivia couldn't help herself, she just had to lean down and moisten the chapped flesh with her tongue.

The last thing she expected was Peter's mouth to open under hers, and a sigh that sounded suspiciously like her name brushing her own lips. Startled, Olivia pulled back, only to meet Peter's ocean blue gaze. But what a change. Where darkness had lurked earlier now she thought she detected… heat? Want? _Need?_

Still dazed from Olivia's attack, Peter shifted and started to raise his left hand to her face - only to have the motion prevented by the handcuffs. Slowly, he turned his head to stare at the constraints before looking back at Olivia with a puzzled frown.

"What…" he croaked, but his dry throat wouldn't let him continue. He tried to swallow, but there was no moisture left in his body to produce saliva.

"Don't worry, Peter," Olivia said quickly, unsure of how stable his current mindset was. "It's for your own protection. You were… moving around too much. I had to restrain you."

"I…" Peter tried again, and Olivia cringed at how painful his voice sounded.

"Don't try to talk, I wish I had something to drink to give you, but there's nothing here."

Peter shook his head. Olivia noticed nervously that he seemed to be getting agitated again, his breathing had quickened and he was trying to sit up. She wasn't sure if she should get out of his reach to be safe. Peter must have caught her tiny move of pulling away, he let his head drop back.

"Did I… hurt… you?" he managed to grind out.

"What?" The questions caught Olivia completely by surprise, especially coming from a man who had just tried to throttle her. "Uh - no, not really. Don't worry, I'm fine."

She thought she saw tears in his eyes and wondered what kind of poison was running through his veins that caused these violent mood swings.

Peter was trying to speak again, but his desiccated vocal chords refused to obey. Olivia's attempts to shush him were in vain, Peter seemed hell bent on telling her something. In the end she could think of only one way to shut him up, so Olivia leaned down again and covered Peter's mouth with her own. This time when his lips opened under hers a low moan escaped him that went right to Olivia's core and caused a hunger she had never known before. Tentatively licking into the furnace that was Peter's mouth, Olivia ran her tongue over the sandpaper feel of Peter's tongue before starting to moisten the roof of his mouth and the insides of his cheeks.

Peter's mouth came alive under her ministrations. His tongue met hers, tentatively at first, then becoming bolder as she returned his hesitant advances. Olivia felt a hand cradle the back of her head, fingers twining in her hair. But the gesture was not meant to control, it was gentle, caressing, and she brought her own hands up to cup Peter's burning cheeks.

When they finally broke apart they were both panting heavily, and not only from lack of oxygen.

"Olivia…" Peter breathed. His eyes - pupils blown wide - searched her face while his hot hand slid from the back of her head across her shoulder and down her front where it stopped just below her collar bone. "Will you… Can I…"

Passion flared up in her lower belly at his husky plea. The situation had taken on a dreamlike quality. To Olivia it felt as if the universe had shrunk to this small, barren room, boiling down to just her and Peter. Here. Now. She nodded and moved forward so his hand slid to the top of her breast. Peter's eyes went wide as he felt the edge of her bra through the thin material of her shirt under his fingertips.

With trembling fingers he started to wrestle with the buttons on her shirt, his right hand clumsy. The handcuffs clanked against the radiator's pipe when he tried to pull his left hand in to help. Olivia sat up, rummaging in her jacket pocket for the key to free him, but Peter grabbed her wrist and shook his head.

"Don't," he rasped. "Not… safe."

Olivia marveled at the fact that he still seemed to be thinking somewhat clearly, in spite of the fever and whatever the poison was doing to his mind. She nodded, withdrawing her hand from her pocket and putting it to better use, discarding her jacket and shirt, exposing herself to Peter's hungry gaze. His long, slender fingers traveled up her bare stomach until they brushed over a nipple, which hardened instantly under his touch. Olivia drew in a sharp breath, leaning closer in a silent plea for more.

A familiar, cheeky grin spread over Peter's face as he ran his thumb repeatedly over the stiff peak, finally pinching it between two fingers which caused a full-body shudder to run through Olivia. Even through the material of her bra, Peter's touch was scorching, and she had to feel it on her skin _now_.

With a practiced movement Olivia opened her bra and shook it off. By then Peter had managed to sit up, and she threw one of her legs across his thighs, straddling him. His burning hot mouth latched on to her other nipple, sucking and nibbling the sensitive bud, while his right hand was back to caress the breast it had been teasing before.

Olivia thought she would be going up in flames at the double assault. Writhing in Peter's lap, all she could do was clutch his head to her, wishing he'd never stop. Within a few minutes he had her on the brink of an orgasm without even having opened her pants. But Olivia was too far gone to care about looking desperate, like a cat in heat she rubbed her clit over the hard muscle of Peter's thigh until with a loud shout she seized in a blinding orgasm.

When Olivia came down from her high she was lying on her side on the quilt, face to face with Peter. A hot hand was running along the waistband of her trousers, as if asking for permission. Apart from the hunger in his eyes, Olivia noticed two things. Peter had managed to pull off his shirt which was now bunched around his lower left arm above the handcuffs, and there was a very prominent bulge at the front of his pants. She wasn't sure how his body was even able to find the strength for such a reaction, but she wasn't complaining. For the first time since her partial amnesia Olivia felt whole, the missing puzzle pieces in her memory no longer a flaw in the picture. It wasn't that the empty space had been filled, but somehow the rest of the pieces had been rearranged, creating a new image that was complete. How stable this image was and how long it would last didn't concern her at that moment. Olivia was riding a high and she would take what she could get. She would deal with the consequences later.

Olivia was brought back to reality with a bump, though, when her eyes fell on Peter's right arm. The tendrils that radiated from under the bandage she had wrapped around the creature's bite mark had by now reached Peter's shoulder, and had darkened to an almost black hue.

"Jesus, Peter!" Olivia exclaimed.

Gently, Peter grabbed her chin and turned her head so she had to look into his eyes. "It's nothing," he assured her before once again capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss. Every thought except for _Peter_ and _more_ and _now_ fled Olivia's brain as she eagerly returned his advances. She didn't even wait for Peter to divest her of her pants. Without breaking the kiss she shimmied out of the garment and her panties. When she got started on the buttons of Peter's jeans he let out a moan so full of need and want Olivia's questing hands began to shake. She could not remember ever having been this turned on. With more desperation than finesse she got Peter's fly open, and pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees so he could kick them off. Her heart beating wildly in her chest, Olivia wrapped her hand around Peter's throbbing length and pumped it once, experimentally. His cock felt heavy and its heat burned into the skin of her palm, fueling her own desire. Peter let out a growl, and his hips came off the floor, chasing the delicious friction she was giving him.

"You… you're killing me," Peter gasped, and Olivia noticed with satisfaction a small drop of precome starting to ooze from his slit. She was just about to lean over and lick it off when she felt herself flipped onto her back, and a very naked Peter was covering her like an electric blanket set to maximum, his burning shaft digging into the soft skin of her lower belly. Pressing hot little kisses on her submissively bared throat, Peter slid it down - slowly, oh so slowly until the tip of his hot cock brushed over her clit. Olivia arched into the sensation, craving more of the sizzling contact. But Peter was on a mission and kept moving further, and Olivia was torn between the loss of stimulation and the anticipation of feeling him burning her up from the inside.

Finally he was positioned against her sopping wet entrance. Olivia wasn't sure if the trembling in his arms was from holding back, or from holding up his body weight so he wouldn't crush her. In any case, she knew what she wanted, so she hooked her legs around his hips, urging him on.

It must have been the signal Peter had been waiting for. With a strangled cry he sheathed himself inside Olivia with one powerful thrust. She gasped and her eyes went wide at the incredible sensation, the intensity of his hot cock filling her like molten lava. For a brief moment she wondered if she was doing the right thing, if he was even up to this in his current state, but then Peter pulled back and set up a powerful, even rhythm that brought all her cognitive functions to a sudden stop. The heat of the hard shaft sliding through her welcoming channel enhanced every sensation, and Olivia fought against the orgasm that was rising inside her again, trying to draw out the pleasure as long as possible.

The gasps and groans coming from Peter told her that he was getting close as well, and she clung to him, her fingers clawing at his back as they raced towards their joint climax - when a loud crashing noise outside the door caused Olivia to push Peter back and try to sit up. Due to her sudden movement he slipped out of her just as his orgasm was hitting him, and a small squirt of hot, milky liquid landed on Olivia's thigh as Peter slid off to one side.

Heart hammering in her chest, Olivia held her breath listening for further sounds. Another crash could be heard, followed by the low murmur of voices.

The thought that a rescue team was about to break through the door galvanized her into action. She quickly wiped the small, gooey puddle from her leg and reached for her clothes.

"Peter, get dressed, quickly!" she hissed, slipping into her panties. It was only when there was no reply that she noticed he was out cold. Concern overrode her sense of propriety, and Olivia dropped her bra back on the floor in order to check up on Peter. To her relief his breath was shallow but even, and his pulse no more accelerated that it should be at this point. She also got the impression that he wasn't feeling quite as hot to the touch anymore.

Satisfied that Peter was in no imminent danger, Olivia slipped into the rest of her clothes. She also managed to manhandle Peter into his boxers, but then her strength gave out. Her hip was screaming in protest at the stress she had been putting on it, so she satisfied herself with rolling Peter into the quilt, just in time before she heard a heavy grinding against the door as the debris that had been piled up against it was removed.

Her cane had been lost God knows where during her adventures of the past hours, so Olivia supported herself first against the wall and then against the shelves as she limped towards the door to greet their rescuers.


	5. Diagnosis

**A/N: **Thanks to gameoff for the detailed review, I really appreciated it.

Actually, this was supposed to be the a short chapter to wrap things up, but somehow the story just refused to end there. Hope you're still with me, and not getting bored. Either way, it would be helpful to hear about it. *wink*

_Chapter 5 - Diagnosis_

For once Olivia accepted the doctors' suggestion that she should spend the night at the hospital for observation. It would make it easier for her to keep apprised of Peter's condition. She was waiting in an ER cubicle for her transfer to the trauma ward when Astrid stuck her head through the curtain.

"How is he?" Olivia asked right away.

"He's still running a fever, but it's nowhere near as high as what you described," Astrid reported, stepping into the cubicle. "Apart from pumping him full of liquids, they started giving him massive doses of antibiotics on the chopper that brought you here, and they have already taken effect against the spread of the poison. That's the good news. The bad news is that they have not been able to wake him yet."

A heavy weight settled in Olivia's gut. She remembered Peter's weird behavior, and could only hope that the incident had not caused any permanent brain damage. On the other hand she was grateful that Broyles had insisted that they would be airlifted back to Boston where specialists were on hand to treat Peter.

"Do they know why?"

"Several experts are on it, and I'm sure they'll figure something out," Astrid assured her. "And then of course there's Walter. He personally took several blood samples and has commandeered a lab since he refused to leave Peter." An impish grin spread over Astrid's face. "You should have heard his repeated and derogatory comments about the set-up and equipment. It took me quite a while to smooth the ruffled feathers of the local staff."

Olivia couldn't help but return Astrid's smile, imagining the scene. At that moment a nurse arrived with a wheelchair and told Olivia that she would show her to her own room now. Astrid followed them to help Olivia get settled.

In spite of her exhaustion, Olivia insisted on seeing Peter one more time before she went to sleep, so Astrid dutifully pushed her to his room. It was right down the corridor from Olivia's own, so she told Astird she'd be able to make her own way back after she was done visiting, and sent the Junior Agent away for some well-deserved food and rest.

The lights in the room had already been dimmed for the night, but Peter's pale, still form on the bed was illuminated by the multiple monitors that surrounded him, recording his vital functions. Olivia rolled close enough so she could put her hand on Peter's hoping to get some kind of reaction, but the fingers under hers remained still and the patterns on the monitors continued uninterrupted. Running her fingers up his arm, she traced the lines the poison had made, noting that they had faded to a greenish grey.

Realizing that there was nothing she could do for him at that moment, Olivia turned her wheelchair towards the door when she noticed the second bed that had been set up, probably by Walter's request. If she knew the older Bishop - and she should by now - he would not leave the lab for hours to come, so Olivia decided to take advantage of the welcome resting place. Shifting herself from the wheelchair into the bed consumed her last bit of strength, and she was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

_FringeFringeFringe_

It seemed as if she had only just closed he eyes when Olivia was woken by the sound of agitated voices. Cursing the inconsiderate nurses who were disturbing her badly required sleep, Olivia opened her eyes. They grey light that was filtering through the slats of the curtain told her that it was already morning. The irritating voices continued to argue, and when Olivia heard her name mentioned she decided it was time to investigate.

Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Olivia found herself face to face with Walter and Astrid.

"Agent Dunham, you are awake!" Walter proclaimed and a wide smile spread over his face while Astrid gave him an evil 'there, now you've done it' look. "Excellent, my dear, I need to speak with your urgently. My experiments last night have resulted in some extremely interesting albeit disconcerting discoveries concerning…"

"Hold it right there, Walter," Astrid interrupted him. "It's bad enough that you have woken Olivia, don't you think you should let he have a cup of coffee and a bite to eat before you spring this theory on her?"

"What theory?" Olivia asked.

"It's pretty far out," Astrid said. "Walter thinks…"

"It is nothing of the sort," Walter insisted, pulling himself up to his full height and glaring at the petite FBI agent who remained completely unfazed by his wrath. "My findings are quite conclusive. It is the only viable explanation. And if I am correct - which I am quite convinced I am - I need to ask Olivia this question now."

"Ask me what?" By then Olivia had enough of this cryptic exchange that was starting to make her feel vaguely uneasy.

"Walter…" Astrid tried again, but the old man simply brushed her aside.

"Tell me, my dear - did Peter force himself on you? I mean sexually."

"What?" To say that Olivia was stunned by this question would be an understatement. The thought of Peter attacking her in such a way seemed so preposterous that she added an emphatic, "No!"

Walter sagged in obvious relief. "Good, good, it appears that we were in time."

"Can somebody please tell me what's going on here?" Olivia asked, annoyed beyond her endurance. "You know Peter, how can you even think..."

"Ah, but that's the perfidy of this creature," Walter explained. "As is customary with hybrids, the resulting chimera is unable to procreate. The chromosomes in its DNA are spliced together so meiosis is impossible. Hence no reproductive cells. But this thing found a way to employ a host to guarantee the survival of its species."

Walter walked over to the bed where Peter still lay unconscious. Gently, he grabbed his son's arm and traced the lines that were still visible under the skin. "What you thought was a poison was in fact a pathogen carrying crucial bits of DNA that characterize the creature. The moment it entered Peter's bloodstream it started to produce a mix of hormones and other substances that targeted Peter's gonads, causing them to produce mutant sperm. They also affected Peter's brain, preparing him in stages for the final act. The mating."

"Really, Walter, Olivia has been though enough, there's no need to trouble her with your wild theories." Astrid cast her superior an apologetic look, but Olivia was too focused on Peter to notice. "No," she said, "I think Walter is on to something. While we were locked up in that basement Peter was behaving… strangely. At first he was kind of sweet and insecure, then he became sullen and suspicious."

"Aha!" Walter exclaimed. "Just as I suspected, Ascot. He was feeling the effects of the DNA maturing in his bloodstream. Childhood followed by the rebellious phase of adolescence." He winked at Olivia. "The next phase would have been that of adulthood and mating. Ensuring the survival of its race by pouring its semen into the next willing or unwilling female it could…"

A groan interrupted them, and as one they turned towards Peter's bed.

"Peter, you're awake!" Walter announced happily, taking his son's wrist to check his pulse.

"Yes, unfortunately," Peter muttered. He weakly tried to pull his wrist from Walter's grasp. "Although as the first topic to face after waking up your choice leaves much to be desired."

"I was just describing the effects of the pathogen you were infected with," Walter defended himself. "Ultimately, they would have resulted in you following the primal urge of claiming a mate and…"

"Walter, stop it right there. I refuse to discuss these things while there are ladies present."

Peter finally managed to wrestle his wrist from his father's fingers, and proceeded to study the faint lines that were still running up his arm. "What the hell?"

By then Olivia had gotten out of her own bed and approached Peter's side now, glad to find that her hip had recovered enough to carry her weight. "How much do you remember?" she asked.

Peter looked up at her, and when he saw the faint discolorations on her neck his eyes widened in shock. "Olivia? What happened to you?"

"We, uh… we had a disagreement over a bottle," Olivia finally replied. Then she repeated her earlier question, "What do you remember?"

"Not much," Peter admitted, his brow creasing in concentration. "I remember stabbing the creature. After that it's just a blur. I remember feeling confused, and hot, and angry and…" He broke off and swallowed, breaking eye contact with Olivia, "… and aroused." Looking back at her his voice almost dropped to a whisper when he asked, "Oh god, Olivia, what did I do to you?"

By then Olivia had decided that he would never know what happened between them in that basement. As much as she had enjoyed their first time together, she knew Peter would always wonder if it had been consensual or not. An impossible foundation for a relationship she was more determined than ever to pursue. In any case, due to the interruption to their lovemaking she had not been exposed to Peter's sperm. She still remembered the small, viscous splatter on her thigh. And in addition, she knew that she was nowhere near her fertile phase. So she gave Peter an apologetic smile and replied, "It's more a question of what I did to you. I admit, you were pretty out of it and you became aggressive, so I had no choice. Actually, I kneed you in the jewels and pistol whipped you, so if anybody should feel the need to apologize it would be me."

"So I really attacked you..." Peter mumbled, thereby confirming Olivia's belief that he would lay all the guilt on his own doorstep, no matter what she said.

"After saving my life and getting poisoned in the process," Olivia corrected him. "I'd say we're even."

The smile Peter gave her made her all warm and tingly inside. But her elation turned to panic when Peter's eyes widened in alarm, and the next second the warning signals from the monitoring equipment went haywire.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Olivia shouted frantically.

"He's flatlining," Astrid replied, her thumb already glued to the call button.

"But why? He was fine just a moment ago." Olivia turned to Walter, who was unmoving, clearly in shock. "Walter?"

"I should have seen it coming. The life cycle ends with death." His words were almost inaudible, but Olivia didn't get a chance to ask him for clarification because a doctor and two nurses came rushing into the room and descended on Peter. One of them started CPR while the doctor shouted for a crash cart to be brought in. Relegated to the fringe of their well-rehearsed activity, Olivia, Walter and Astrid could only stand by helplessly to watch and hope.


	6. Plan B

**A/N:** So here it is, the conclusion. Just in time for S4. OMG, less than 11 hours to go! At least for those of you lucky enough to catch it on TV as it airs.

Another big Thank You to my beta mvariorum who supported me while I wrestled with the ending of the fic. Always the hardest part for me.

Thanks for reading, everybody, and it would be great to hear your thoughts about this.

_Chapter 6 - Plan B_

Seeing Peter's body buck clear off the bed as the current of the defibrillator tore through his chest was almost more than Olivia could bear. Still, she could not look away.

"Charge to 300… Clear!"

Peter arched off the bed again, and breathless silence followed, all eyes in the room glued to the heart monitor. A flicker ran across the line, and one of the nurses declared, "We have a pulse."

"He still not breathing, though," the doctor said. "We'll have to intubate."

It was only when the rhythmic _whoosh_ of air being forced into Peter's lungs filled the room and the doctor declared Peter's condition as stable that Olivia realized she had been clinging to Astrid's hand throughout the whole thing, almost crushing its delicate bones.

"I'm sorry," Olivia said sheepishly as she let go of Astrid's hand.

"Don't worry, no harm done," Astrid replied, although her smile was forced, and she flexed her fingers surreptitiously to restore circulation.

Olivia turned to Walter. He was leaning against the wall, white as a sheet.

"Walter, you seemed to know what happened here. Can you enlighten us?" she asked.

"What?" Walter still seemed a bit disoriented, but the regular blips from the monitoring equipment helped to bring him back from his panicked stupor. "Yes... yes indeed, I have a hypothesis, but it will require some testing to substantiate it. In a nutshell, the life span of the pathogen in Peter's blood seems to have come to an end, trying to take Peter with it. I hadn't expected this would to happen until after procreation, but its life expectancy may be limited. In any case, this is good news. Once the organism is dead, it will be broken down and absorbed by Peter's body."

"Do you think there's any danger that he will flatline again?" Olivia didn't think she possessed the strength for another episode like this.

"I don't think so, my dear," Walter reassured her. "For all intents and purposed, Peter died today, so the cycle is complete. And once there is no living pathogen left, he should start breathing on his own again. But as I said, I need to get to my lab for more testing. There is…"

"There is only one place where we are going right now, and that's the cafeteria," Astrid interrupted him, rejoining them after a hushed conversation with the doctor. "Neither of you got much sleep or food in ages, if any at all, and we won't be doing Peter any favors if either of you collapses. The doctor told me that they will keep him sedated for the next couple of hours, so there's no rush at all."

Olivia had to admit that the idea of a cup of coffee - or five - and a hearty breakfast sounded heavenly to her ears. So she and Astrid took Walter's arms and even though he put up some token resistance, they pulled him from the room.

_FringeFringeFringe_

After an extensive breakfast Walter and Astrid left to continue their research, while Olivia returned to her room to shower and change. Some kind soul from the bureau had brought over some clothes from her apartment, and she gratefully slipped into the comfortable sweatpants and long-sleeved tee they had chosen.

When she limped down the corridor she bumped into Peter's physician who was just leaving his room. A cold hand wrapped itself around Olivia's heart, but let go immediately when the doctor smiled at her.

"I have good news," he told her. "Mr. Bishop started breathing on his own again less than an hour after we had to intubate. There have been no further complications, and we have taken him off the sedatives. He should waken shortly."

"That's good news indeed," Olivia replied happily. "Have you informed his father yet? You can also tell him that I'll sit with Peter until he comes round."

When the doctor had left, Olivia settled herself into the standard uncomfortable plastic chair by Peter's bedside. She didn't mind having some time to herself. So much had happened in the past 24 hours that she welcomed this respite to go over them again, to try and analyze her emotions and actions. She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice it when Peter opened his eyes, and she was startled by a gentle touch to her arm.

"Peter." It was a sigh of relief. But then she saw him wince as he withdrew the hand that had just touched her. "Are you alright? How are you feeling."

"I'm okay," he replied, experimentally moving his arm. "Just sore. Like the kind of major flu achy joints. Got a killer headache too." He closed his eyes and shifted carefully to find a more comfortable position.

"Consider it a relatively small price to pay for coming back from the dead," Olivia informed him.

Peter's eyes snapped open. "Dead?" he asked in disbelief.

Olivia nodded. "You flatlined. And stopped breathing. Oh, Peter, we were so scared!"

Disregarding his own discomfort, Peter reached out and intertwined his fingers with hers. "It's okay, it's over. I'm fine now," he insisted.

All Olivia wanted at that moment was to wrap him in her arms and kiss him senseless, but that would be too much too soon. Damn that poison that forced her to suppress the memories of their first time together. Something must have shown in her eyes, though, because the crack between Peter's eyebrow deepened in a familiar sign of worry.

"Olivia..." Peter began, only to break off again, searching for the right words. "In that basement - I don't remember much, but I get these flashes, like visions, and… and they're starting to freak me out."

Olivia put on her best poker face, the one that portrayed polite interest. "Visions? What kind of visions?" she asked, proud that there wasn't even the smidgen of a tremble in her voice.

"Visions of me attacking you. Of the two of us in a very… intimate situation."

Drawing on all of her acting skills, Olivia smiled and shook her head. "They must have been hallucinations. Remember, you were burning up with fever, and there was no water or anything to drink down there, so you were severely dehydrated as well. It must have addled your brain."

She could feel his body relaxing after her reassurance, and felt her own tension ease. It seemed that he bought her story, at least for now. Fortunately she was saved from further elaborations by Walter and Astrid who came into the room at that moment.

"Peter - you're back!" Walter exclaimed, and with complete disregard for any decorum he swooped over and pulled his son into a bear hug that brought a pained gasp from Peter.

"Walter, careful," Olivia cautioned, "he's still sore."

"Yes, of course he would be," Walter admitted, releasing his grip and gently settling Peter back into the pillows. "It's the residue of the pathogen. I believe some Aspirin would be in order, and plenty of liquids to flush it out of your system."

"I can live with those doctor's orders," Peter sighed, gratefully accepting a cup of ice chips that Astrid held out to him.

"Oh, and no hanky-panky for at least 40 days," Walter added.

"Hanky-panky?" Peter was obviously lost. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"No intercourse - at least not with a woman," Walter clarified, causing Peter to choke on the ice chip he had just slipped into his mouth.

"Walter - what the hell?"

"It's just a precaution, son. My experiments have shown that this creature's cells are extremely resilient, and I estimate that even the sperm could be able to survive up to five weeks. Of course, to find out the exact period I would require a sample from you, so once you are strong enough to make it to the bathroom so they can remove the catheter we will procure…"

Peter cast a beseeching look at Olivia and Astrid. "Can you please make him shut up?" he begged weakly. Having a hard time not to laugh at his obvious embarrassment, the two agents shooed a protesting Walter from the room. Olivia turned around once more in the doorframe. "Get some rest," she told Peter. "I'll be back later to check on you, see if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks," Peter managed to mutter, exhaustion obviously claiming him, and his eyes closed the moment Olivia turned her back.

As they walked down the corridor, Olivia couldn't help herself. "Walter," she said. "What if I HAD slept with Peter while he was under the influence of that pathogen. Would I be in any danger?"

"Not unless you were ovulating at the time," Walter replied, taking her questions at face value. On the other hand, Olivia could practically feel Astrid's calculating gaze. "But I would certainly advise some sort of birth control for the next month or so."

"Right." Great, now she was getting flustered under Astrid's stare. "Are you going back to the lab?"

"Yes, I will. There are a few test results that still need to be documented."

"You go ahead, Walter," Astrid chimed in. "I'll bet there in a minute."

When Walter had puttered off, Astrid turned to Olivia. "So…"

"So, what?" Olivia replied, feigning innocence.

Astrid smiled benevolently. "Nothing. I was just thinking, you probably want to get back to Peter. Or did you have something else in mind? You know, as in 'Plan B'? I mean, hypothetically, of course. Since nothing REALLY happened between you and Peter."

The way she drew out the word and her fond smile said without so many words that Olivia's secret had been discovered, but that it was safe with Astrid. With a jaunty wave the junior agent walked off, and Olivia breathed a sigh of relief.

Still, the advice was sound, and she figured she'd be able to fit in a trip to the pharmacy before Peter woke up again. Just in case.

**A/N:** For those of you who do not live in the States and may be a bit mystified about the last exchange, 'Plan B' is the brand name of an over-the-counter 'morning after pill' on sale in America.


End file.
